Dog Tired

I suppose
we should have known it. Dunny and Rampant. They never stop, do they.
When others have fallen by the wayside, foaming at the nostrils with
exhaustion they just keep on running. The only other Hasher who
exhibits the same blinkered approach is Barney. So all that guff
Dunny gave us at the Circle about the Long Trail being about 6½
miles should have been taken with a pinch of salt and a large snort
of derision. Iceman’s GPS registered that he had covered 7.8
miles at the end of the Trail and even taking into account that he
winds it on a bit to show off the distance was still pretty severe.

Add to
that that the first few hundred yards were uphill on tarmac and you
begin to get the idea of what this Trail was like. Poor Effin who had
not Hashed for about a year had rejoined us today. It was probably
not the gentlest of Trails to ease oneself back into the groove.
Those of you who watched on television James Cracknell and Ben Fogle
in their race to the South Pole know what exhaustion looks like;
several Hashers at the end of this looked very similar (without the
dangly, icy bogies, mind you).

Fortunately,
OldDog provided a little light relief after that initial
hallucination-inducing tarmac hill. As we blundered breathlessly into
the first of the woodland she tripped over a medium-sized log which
forced one of those seven-league recovery steps and much mirth from
the closely following Hashgate. Shortly followed by another
ungentlemanly guffaw when she almost repeated the action with a
smaller one immediately after. Florence suffered an even worse fate
while attempting to take a short ‘comfort break’ near a
False at the top of a rise in the forest. We had all run back from
the ‘F’ but Billy decided he needed to check the ‘F’
for himself. The unfortunate Florence was just settling herself like
a mother hen on the nest when the fellow trolled past her
camouflaging tree. Not sure who was most flustered. Billy spun on the
spot and raced back at pace, eyes locked heavenwards while Florence
hurriedly re-panted with a lot of squawking and clucking. How Billy
got down that root-gnarled hill without face-planting was a miracle.
And probably a bit of a shame really…

Now just
occasionally you get a grumpy old git who objects to our childlike
enjoyment of a bit of running and the odd shout and so it was today.
He was really not impressed with Whinge and company and informed them
so in the red-faced, apoplectic fashion of a long-serving MP
defending the right to purchase: a holiday in the Bahamas (essential
research into the environment likely to result in the event of global
warming), several lesbian porn movies (investigation into and
understanding of social prejudice against a minority group), 84”
plasma television (crucial for following up-to-date political
reporting – the lesbian porn dvd found in it had obviously been
placed there inadvertantly by the 18-year old Libyan maid (supporting
a displaced asylum seeker – identity documents in the post)))
and a bath plug. The fellow ranted a tad, though Desperate almost
placated him by showing him her beautiful titanium hair. He conceded
that at least she was, “trying to be polite.” Unlike
Messenger Boy’s dog, Lucy, who (fortunately unseen by the chap)
squatted down on the patch of grass behind him and strained until her
eyes crossed before depositing a large section of, erm, fertilizer,
scratched about with her back legs in that peculiar fashion dogs
have, then ran off with what could almost be described as a grin on
her face. There was certainly one on Messenger Boy’s.

It all got
very messy after the Regroup. The Short Trailers duly hived off that
way while the rest of us ignored Dunny’s offer of a Medium
Trail and opted for the Long! Why we do dat? Especially after Rampant
had advised us, “It’s a bit faster for the runners from
here.” The Bar-7 we ‘enjoyed’ early on hinted at
what was to come. Fortunately, we were next to young Kyle who was
running with Fannybag and Bogbrush when he hit it or what leaves were
still dangling from the branches of the trees would have been blown
off with the invective directed against the Hares (who had cleverly
managed to reverse the Pack). Incidentally, Kyle and Dwight and
Julia’s son, Scoot, skipped along lightly like Hash veterans.
Actually, I take that back. The Hash veterans staggered along like
knock-need, knackered old nosebags compared to these exuberant,
full-of-running lads.

We
actually thoroughly enjoyed following Dunny as we raced down into and
along that Roman ditch, carpeted in scrunchy copper leaves. And
Twanky and I had fun yomping down that steep hill in amongst the dark
trees where the mountain bike track ran and a small gathering of
earnest youths with bikes stared at us with amazement. We limped
breathlessly past a bevy of friendly walkers who were sitting down
for a good old rest and a sandwich. A nasty thought occurred to me
that the buggers were only just older than, or the same age as, us.
At least we were still running. Well almost. That last, long uphill
field followed by that last, long uphill track nearly saw us off. Not
many were running. I just followed Loudon Tasteless as we nipped
along a bit of road before diving into the little path that came down
just behind the pub. It was indeed a heart-lightening sight.

Must thank
the Hares for their hard work on this one. Some lovely country to run
through – actually quite a lot of it. Good also to see them
carefully marking the direction with flour after we had gone through
the Checks. Doesn’t half make a difference if one is late.

On On. Hashgate.

Down Downs

After presentation by
Ram of a number of awards and Down Downs to some of the intrepid and
highly successful Clarendon Way participants (including Florence,
Zebedee, Dwight, Dunny, Rampant, Fannybag, Jo) RA Simple stunningly
presented (he complains if I don’t say this kind of thing) the
following :-

Name

Reason

Style
points

Dribbler,
NappyRash

Birthdays

Nappyrash
perhaps a little thirstier than Dribbler

Effin,
Jo

Returning,
visiting

Nicely
done, ladies

Twanky

Serious
dog abuse

Crikey! No hanging about

Florence

Getting
caught out by Billy

Nippy,
or what?

LoudonTasteless,
Spex

200
run awards of a pair of fine checked shirts. Well done!

Loudon
just shading this one

Kyle

Running
blithely past Simple while he was putting his all into it

Excellent
½. Some of us should follow this example!

Dunny,
Rampant Rabbit

Today’s
Hares

A
pint – easily downed, and a ½ - rather withered on
the vine, as it were (having to drive is such a nuisance)

Hallowe’en
Barn Dance

Enter the Twilight Zone
on Saturday, October 31st for only £8 and all the
frogs you can eat (ok, it includes food). BYO drink and dance to the
excellent Pitchfork. You can wear fancy dress, or not, and there’s
a competition for the best designed and cut pumpkin. Motox has the
tickets. Haunt him for one before they all go!